Family Problems
by IanPeriwinkle
Summary: Mail and Rin are half-siblings, and both have come home for the holidays. What happens, however, when Mail's family finds out about his abusive relationship? Rated M for extreme violence and potty mouths. OC usage.


**This just… came to me while I was ****_trying _****to take a nap. So, they seem pretty similar to me, and they have roughly the same coloured hair and eyes, and whenever I dream about my red-haired family, they're both in it.**

**So, what if Mail Jeeves, from ****_Death Note _****was half or step-siblings with Rin Tezuka, of ****_Katawa Sjoujo_****? Well, this is a little one-shot of what life may be like. I'm going with Mail as about twenty-one, and Rin at seventeen. I'm thinking of doing more, but first I'll see how this turns out.**

**Let's just pretend that Mail and Mihael never died, because it's much more fun to have the two men grow old together.**

**Plus, this is set ****_before _****the game.**

Mail Jeeves was three years old when his mother got re-married. He couldn't remember much about what life was like before then, but he did remember feeling exceedingly jealous when July had a new baby, and started paying more attention to the little girl than him.

The man stormed down the stairs of his parents' house, annoyed because he had to share a room with two teenage girls four years his junior, and stressed because he had been away from his boyfriend for three weeks, and so had now gone that long without sex.

"Mail, dear," His mother poked her head around the corner, dusty red hair tied in a loose plait, "Would you mind coming in here for a minute and giving me a hand?"

The ginger heaved a sigh and followed July as she disappeared into the kitchen.

"What's got you so down in the dumps?" July pointed at a large bag of flour that had been placed on the top shelf. Unfortunately, while Mail was taller than average, his mother was much shorter.

"It's nothing,"

He dropped the bag onto the counter and July busied herself with her cooking.

"Nothing? Sorry, hon; Not believing that for a second,"

July turned and faced her son, taking in his weary appearance. Dark circles hung under his eyes, and he was thinner than he'd been the last time they'd seen each-other.

"Well?"

"Mom," Mail was exasperated now, "Please. Leave it?"

"Leave what?"

The two turned to look at the doorway where Shinji and July's daughter, Rin, stood watching.

"Nothing, Rin," Mail said, at the same time that his mother spoke.

"Your brother's bothered by something, and he won't tell me what,"

Mil gave a pointed look to his mother, who in return pointedly ignored it.

"He's not getting enough sex," The teenager said bluntly, shocking both July and mail.

"How the _fuck _would you know?" Mail hissed, standing in front of his sister.

She looked him in the eye, unfazed, for a moment, "Because I had a conversation with you last night about it. You haven't talked in your sleep for a while; Maybe you should visit a psychiatrist,"

The two half-siblings stared at each-other for almost a minute, before Mail brushed past his short half-sister and left the house.

Sitting himself down on a park bench, Mail flicked out his phone and started punching in his boyfriend's number.

After a few rings, the sleepy blonde answered, "Whassup?"

"Hey, Babe," Mail smiled, "How are you?"

"Sleepy," Mihael yawned, "How's your Mom's place?"

Mail paused, "Honestly, Babe? It's not nice. My sister's annoying, and I have to share a room with her and her hyper friend,"

"Aw, Matty,"

"Babe, are you sure you don't want to come and meet my family?"

He heard his boyfriend stop. They'd talked about it before, and Mihael was adamant that he wouldn't be meeting Mail's family anytime soon. He wasn't exactly a closet case; He was just uncomfortable with the whole 'family' setting, after losing his parents at such a young age.

"Sorry, Babe. I shouldn't have said anything,"

"Damn right you shouldn't have," Mihael snapped.

Mail sighed. He was used to his boyfriend getting angry, but that didn't mean he had to like it, "Babe, can we not do this?"

"Sorry," The blonde muttered, "Listen, I'm going to hang up. I need to get to work,"

That was a lie, and Mail knew it, but he let it slide, "Bye, Babe,"

"Yeah, bye,"

The beeping on the other end of the line told Mail that his boyfriend was gone. He refused to acknowledge the tear that streaked down his face.

It was nine in the evening when Mail returned home, and he was drunk. Very drunk.

"Mail," July scolded, "Where on Earth have you been?" She sniffed him before wrinkling her nose in disgust, "You're pissed. You're _fucking _pissed?"

"Mom, please," He moaned, "Can we not do this?"

"Fuck, Mail," She reached up and patted his cheek, "Why did you do this? You never used to drink. Smoking I can understand, but drinking…?"

"Mom, I need to talk with you," Mail sobbed, collapsing and hugging his mother.

July kissed her son's cheek and called for Shinji, "We can talk when you're sober, Hon. Let's get you to bed,"

Mail can't do anything but nod silently as his step-father hurries into the hallway and picks him up.

When he woke up the next morning, the first thing Mail noticed was his hangover. He grabbed a package of cigarettes, opened the bedroom window and started smoking, ignoring the two girls sleeping nearby.

His eyes were still red with a mix of drunken and sober tears. He checked his phone, which was in his jeans pocket – Shinji hadn't been brave enough to strip him completely.

Mail stood where he was for another half hour before heading downstairs. His mother was in the kitchen again, nursing a large glass of orange juice.

He stood awkwardly at the doorway, partially wanting to get the woman's attention, but also wanting to remain unnoticed.

July turned to face her son, "Mail," She smiled, "Come on. I bet that hangover's killer,"

He tentatively stepped into the room and sat at the bench while July busied herself with making a smoothie.

"This is what I call my 'hangover-killer'," She explained, chopping up bananas and throwing them in the blender. She put in a few cups of milk and turned it on, "It'll help. I promise,"

The ingredients mixed together, creating a yellow and green drink that Mail didn't think he'd ever be able to finish. His mother placed it in front of him.

"Drink up," She said, and continued on with her orange juice.

Mail took a hesitant sip of the concoction, and deciding that he liked it, downed the whole glass quickly. The slight mint flavouring helped it go down.

"Mom, last night –"

"Do you still want to talk?" July had dropped her 'motherly' persona. She was business, now.

The man nodded.

"Let's go to a coffee shop later. We can talk there,"

Again, mail nodded, and his mother squeezed his knee, "I love you, Kiddo,"

"I love you, too, Mom,"

They smiled matching smiles, and went to get ready.

Sitting across from each-other in the coffee shop, July and Mail looked like a great parent-child pair. Only it looked more to the people around them like a mother and daughter than a mother and son.

Sounded like it, too.

"So, you're having boy troubles?"

Mail nodded faintly, "Yeah. Kinda,"

July looked her son over thoughtfully, "Is your boyfriend treating you right? I'd tell you how to deal with it, but I haven't met him yet,"

The man didn't want to point out that she had, indeed, met his boyfriend, and so just nodded limply along with her.

"He is treating you right, isn't he?"

"Um," Mail didn't know what to answer. Yes, his boyfriend was cruel, hateful, and often spiteful – But he still loved the blonde, "Yes," He said meekly, but when his mother glared at him he changed his answer, "No,"

"Hon, you have to tell me what's up," July sighed, reaching across the table and taking her son's hand. It was almost as good as eye contact, but Mail's goggles stopped that from happening, "Please," She begged.

"It's nothing, Mom,"

"It's hardly 'nothing' if it caused you to go out drinking,"

Mail glared at his mother from behind the lenses, "Mom, please,"

"Mail," She let go of him and took a sip of her cappuccino, "You're the one who wanted to talk about this,"

He felt less like a man and more like a little boy under his mother's gaze, "I don't know, Mom. It's just, he gets angry. Not angry as in 'I'm going to punch a wall' angry, but as in, 'I'm going to shoot you until your riddled with holes' angry,"

July sucked in a gasp, "Has he shot at you?"

"He misses on purpose," Mail hurried to say, "But, yeah… He's shot at me before,"

"Oh, Mail,"

"It's okay, though," Mail let out a nervous laugh, and July couldn't help but feel that he feared his boyfriend's reaction, "I mean, I usually deserve it. It's only when I do something wrong, or when I forget to do something big, or –" And to Mail's embarrassment, tears started streaming down his face. He put up his hands to wipe them away, but July grabbed his wrists and held them down.

Footsteps sounded behind them, and neither Mail nor July took any notice until a familiar monotone voice spoke up, "Mail, why are you crying?"

The two turned to see a third red-head beside them. She drew up a seat and sat down awkwardly, due to her missing arms.

"Hey, Rin," Mail choked out, smiling at his sister, "Where's Emi?"

"She went into a boutique over there. I can't really wear dresses, and that's all they had there,"

"Emi wears dresses? Even with, you know, her _legs_?" The man asked, giggling slightly.

Rin gave a sad smile, "She doesn't usually. I think she just wanted to look,"

There was a silence between the trio for a few moments before Rin spoke again.

"Mail, you never told me why you were crying,"

July smiled at her daughter, "Rin, Mail's been having some troubles with his boyfriend. I'm trying to help him work things out, but from what I've learned, I think it's the boy who needs help, not Mail,"

Rin's smile turned sour, and she glared at her brother, "What did he do to you?"

July was packing angrily, tossing pairs of jeans and T-shirts into a small backpack. She pulled it over her shoulders and went downstairs where she found mail sitting on his duffel, playing a video-game.

"You know those are bad for your eyes, right?"

She was acknowledged with a grunt.

"Oh, my ever-so-articulate son,"

Rin snorted from the living room. She'd taken up a paintbrush and canvas, and was painting a copy of an old photograph; The figures were much more cartoon-like than they should have been, but Rin had improved a lot since going to the new school.

"Let's go, Mom," Mail said, standing up and stretching.

July laughed again when the man's back cracked twice and he winced in pain, "Jeez, Mail," She snorted, "You need to exercise more,"

"Shut up, Mom,"

Shinji waved off his wife and step-son, laughing when Mail went to get into the driver's seat and found his mother already seated there.

"Mom," He whined, "It's _my _car,"

"I know," July said, "And I'm driving,"

"But, _Mom_,"

"Just shut up and get in the car," She laughed, and pulled the door shut.

The man obliged, clambering into the passenger seat, and they were off.

July reached down and fiddled with some knobs before swearing, "Matt, why did you have to get such an old car?"

"How dare you call my baby 'old'," Mail wailed in faux-grievance, "She's beautiful,"

"Just put on the fucking radio," July swatted at her adult son, "I need some music so I can get my driving-groove on,"

"Oh, God, no," Mail chuckled, and then reached over and put the radio on. _Highway to Hell _started blasting through the speakers, and Mail had to turn down the volume, "You're going to sing along now, aren't you?" He groaned.

The woman smiled wickedly, and burst into song, forcing Mail to groan loudly and cover his ears. It was going to be a long drive.

Three hours later, July pulled up in front of an old converted warehouse.

"This is really where you live?" She asked concernedly, "Please tell me this isn't where you live,"

"This is where I live, Mom,"

"Shit," She swore, and jumped out of the car.

Mail got out as well, and together they went up to the top floor, where Mihael's apartment was.

"Mom, can you stay behind me? I don't want Mello to get pissy…" He trailed off, looking down on his mother. She seemed so fragile; He truly didn't want her to meet Mihael at his worst.

The door slammed open a few seconds after the elevator stopped, and a small figure burst from the room.

"Matt," Mihael shrieked, "Get the _fuck _in here,"

July gasped, and looked up at her son in terror.

"Mello, meet my _mother_," Mail grated, walking stiffly over to his boyfriend and planting a kiss on the blonde's scar.

It took the man a few moments to realise July's presence in the hall. He turned and stared at her for a few seconds.

July flinched when she met Mihael's eyes; The tiny pupils held so little emotion, and she found herself wondering for a second, _Why does my son love him?_ But quickly she shook of the thought, and reached out her hand. She took note of the rosaries wrapped around the blonde's wrist, and the cross hanging on a chain around his neck.

"July," She spoke softly, "July Tezuka-Jeeves,"

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Mihael's voice was raspy, "I'm sorry for my language earlier. I am Mihael Keehl,"

"A pleasure, I'm sure,"

The small woman and man stared each-other down for a few seconds, assessing, before Mihael abruptly let go and headed back into the apartment.

Mail gave an encouraging smile, which July met with a shaky one, and the red-heads made their way inside.

"Babe," Mihael said, "Can we talk in the bedroom for a minute?"

"Sure," Mail smiled at his boyfriend and gave the man another kiss, "Can I just put Mom's bag in the spare room?"

"Do whatever you want," The blonde sighed, and made his way into the bedroom. The door had fallen off its hinges years ago, and so the doorway was covered by a black drape. Mail had always taken comfort in the soft material, but now, as it enveloped his lover, he was not so sure.

He gave a smile to his mother, and pulled her into a spare bedroom. It was filled to the brim with books in various European languages, and July couldn't help but feel intimidated and infatuated with so many different volumes.

"You'll be staying in here, okay? Now," Mail heaved in a breath, "I need to go and talk with Mello,"

**Okay, I was going to make this a one-shot, but this is showing no sign of stopping anytime soon. **

**This actually shocked me while I was writing it: This started as an idea, and it was supposed to be eight-hundred words of fluffy cuteness. It now numbers at about twenty-five-hundred words of domestic violence, and is still going.**

**I'd appreciate a review, but it's fine if I don't get any, however, at least let me know if you'd like this to continue. **

**Cheers!**


End file.
